


Oh. Damn.

by Lady_Morningstar



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: DAMNED, Other, character sketch, children of the night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21627961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Morningstar/pseuds/Lady_Morningstar
Summary: Another character sketch.  Albrecht is a hired sword who has an encounter with the Woman in White that changes his life...unlife?  Forever.
Kudos: 1





	Oh. Damn.

I believe the artist on this is [Vadim Dergay](https://www.artstation.com/berling).

This is Alberich. He is was a hardened warrior who lived for battle. Lithe and agile, he danced his way around every sword, arrow, and spear aimed his way while leaving a carpet or corpses in his wake. There was no one Alberich couldn't take on...no one human anyway. She came to the camps at night, after the carousing was done. An ethereal alabaster goddess who drifted on silent feet in her diaphanous white gown. She loved the soldiers so much but none of them could ever stay with her. She was just so hungry, one little taste couldn't hurt? Night after night, she visited the camp and morning after morning one more soldier didn't rise from his bunk to go to breakfast ever again.   
Alberich knew the signs. The men had laughed at his superstitious ways, but his grandmother had taught him well. Vampyre, succubus, demon whore. He prepared as best he could but the unit didn't have a chaplain. That night, instead of getting undressed and going to sleep, Alberich stayed in his leathers and hid the stake and garlic under his pillow. He carefully nicked his arms so she would smell him. He laid down on his bunk to wait.   
His lure worked perfectly. Within a few hours, she had drifted inside his tent, and lay down beside him. The pallor of her skin was almost luminous. "I've missed you so much. I've been so lonely. Please hold me?" She whispered. He carefully slid his arm under the pillow and grasped the stake as she tucked herself against his side. Her cold nose nuzzled his jaw and her hair was a soft as down. She smelled like jasmine. "You smell so good," she whispered. Alberich forced himself to lay still and relaxed while carefully maneuvering the stake into position. Her nuzzling had become more insistent and erotic. Her lips trailed kisses along his jaw and her hand stroked his chest. "So good," she murmured. She burrowed into his neck and kissed the soft spot under his ear. Everything in Alberich's mind was screaming at him to run but he had faced death before. Everything was almost in place....almost.....almost. Her body writhed against him now, her leg curled on top of his and her hand clutched his clothing, pulling at the laces. Her lips were still so cold as they caressed his skin. "I need you. I need you so much," she whispered. He felt her body coil and knew it was now or never. He braked the stake behind her and flipped them so she landed on it with her back. He bore her down with his body and she EXPLODED into fury. Her eyes now burned an unholy orange and her fangs gleamed, long sharp and deadly. She thrashed and snapped beneath him and it took all of his strength to hold her down, pushing her further onto the stake. She screamed in agony and renewed her attack. Alberich was forced to throw his other arm across his neck before she tore out his throat and her fangs sank into his forearm. Icy cold daggers of pain drilled into his arm, all the way to the bone. He cried at the pain and she took the opportunity to throw him off. Her mouth was smeared with his blood and her gown stuck wetly to her back where the stake protruded. Alberich hauled himself to his feet, knowing he was in terrible danger. Luckily the screaming had roused the camp and they could both hear the pounding of feet coming at a run and see the glow of approaching torches. She looked back at him and hissed malevolently before streaking off into the dark, almost too fast to see. His captain and some others burst into the tent, weapons drawn. But it was too late, she was gone.   
Alberich wearily explained what had been happening, and that they had to dig up their friends, behead them, and burn the bodies. The ashes had to be scattered in running water or else they could rise as monsters, their souls Damned. Alberich got his arm bandaged and the camp slowly quieted back down. Everyone spent an uneasy night in fear she would come back but Alberich knew she wouldn't that night. The next day, the unit got busy with the grisly task of ensuring their fallen comrades stayed that way. Alberich worked grimly alongside them, trying to ignore the cold pain that was creeping up his arm. Once the bodies were destroyed, they broke camp and marched to the next stopping point. Everything seemed to be ok. The unit set up a series of guards that night but she didn't come back. The next day they moved on again. For a week the days and nights were calm and quiet.   
Every day though, the cold crept a little higher. The sun seemed just a little too bright and now matter how much water or ale or wine he drank, Alberich was always thirsty. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew. He was Turning. It was only a matter of time before he became like her. He knew he had to get away before it was too late, so that night, once everyone was asleep, Alberich crept from the camp and left his old life behind. He pushed himself hard, hiking deep into the thick forest and further and further away from people. The thirst was unbearable. He stopped at a stream and plunged his hands into the water. He brought his cupped hands to his mouth and eagerly slurped down the cool water. He felt the coolness of it slide down his throat and into his belly. He guzzled more and more until he felt like he was going to burst but he was still so thirsty. A cramp clenched his guts, and then another and another. The pain was unbearable! He vomited all the water he had drank and then blood, so much blood. He didn't believe in the Gods but he prayed for the pain to stop. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the heaving ceased and Alberich lay curled on the ground, cold, exhausted and burning with thirst. The stream next to him....he crawled down the bank to get to the water but the mere smell of the clear clean stream caused him to heave again. Alberich recoiled and lay exhausted on the ground, head spinning. I'm dying, he thought as the world went dark around him.   
Some time later, he opened his eyes. The forest was bright and clear, but it was still night. Alberich rubbed his eyes and looked around again. Despite the lack of light, he could see everything with aching clarity. He heard a mouse in the brush a few yards to his right, it's tiny heart beating a frantic tattoo of the living. Scents came at him from all directions and he struggled to make sense of all this new sensory input. He closed his eyes and forced himself to be still, like when he would be nervous before a battle. Calm, still, serene, listen to your heart beat and be calm, listen to your heart beat....wait? He listened, he shut out the whole world around him and listened. He even held his breath. Nothing. He put a hand to his chest...nothing. His neck? Nothing. Oh. Oh. Well shit. He realized quite some time had gone by while he was coming to terms with his new...existence and he hadn't breathed yet, or felt the need to. Oh. He was done then. A monster. One of the undead. Unclean damned soul. A sense of panic filled him and he ran. The trees went by in a blur as he ran. He ran until he thought he should be tired but no fatigue touched his muscles and he still didn't need to breathe. The forest around him might as well have been at high noon for how well he could see and he ran. Faster and faster. Suddenly, a sensation tore through his gut like he had been stabbed. He stumbled and rolled across the ground before coming to an abrupt stop against a tree. His stomach clenched again but it wasn't like before where it had wanted everything out, now it wanted something in it. Food. But...what was food? He couldn't even drink water....drink...oh. Damn.   
He thinks about that for a minute and before he realizes it, Alberich is on his feet and moving again. He can smell the deer. It's close. He moves through the forest swiftly but silently this time, on the hunt. He slows as he gets close and creeps forward. The deer is grazing in a thicket. He's downwind and it hasn't smelled or heard him. The world around him slows but he's moving at the same rate as he lunges for the deer. His new instincts drive him and he snaps the deer's neck in his arms. There is a sudden pain is his mouth as his fangs drop for the first time but he barely registers it before burying them into the deer's neck over the big vein there. Hot blood, thick and rich like the best wine gushes into his mouth. He gulps mouthful after mouthful until he is so full he feels like he is going to burst again like with the water. Only the blood doesn't sicken him. The exact opposite! It's like the euphoria of Dream Sand without the muddled head, the intoxication of alcohol without the dizziness. He stands up and looks down at the deer. He thought he would be disgusted or turn into some kind of ravening beast but, he still feels like himself. He's not really sure what to do at this point but his hands and face are sticky with blood and the dead deer will probably attract other predators so he heads off into the forest again.   
He smells water and follows it to another stream where he washes the blood off. Based on what his grandmother taught him, unless he wants this to be his only night, he's going to need to find shelter from the soon to be rising sun. It takes some searching but he luckily finds a cave. From the scents a bear had used it to hibernate but has since moved on. Alberich cuts some pine boughs and makes a bit of a nest a few twists into the cave there is no chance the sun can reach him. He can feel the dawn coming. Between that and his very full stomach, he is sleepy. He takes off his sword, curls up in his cloak and is asleep as the first rays of light signal the new day.  
Alberich wakes the next night. He lays still and tries to remember where he is and why he isn't in his tent. Oh. Damn. He sits up and looks around the cave for a moment. It's not bad, but this isn't going to work long term. He also knows he is hungry again. He's a little scared at what's happening but Alberich has always been a practical man. He can still think, plan, make decisions, so maybe, he can somehow make the best of this? The only thing he knows about Vampyres are the stories his grandmother told him. Demons and monsters who want to steal the blood and souls of the living. Well, he's not really feeling all demony, or has much of a desire to go steal souls, so what else might not be true? He looks down at his arm. It doesn't hurt at all any more. He rolls up his sleeve and there is no wound, no scar, nothing. Hmmmm. Well, let's see. He pulls his belt knife and before he can think too hard about what he is about to do, he slashes deep into the top of his forearm. It stings a bit, but the pain is nothing like what a wound that severe should be. It barely even bleeds. He puts the knife down and pokes at the edges of the wound a little bit. That doesn't hurt either. Huh. He pinches it shut and wonders if he should stitch it up now when it starts to itch like crazy. He looks down and the skin knits together as he watches. In seconds, the wound is fully closed and in another minute, there isn't even a scar.  
Whoa.  
He rubs his arm and it feels completely normal. No pain or numbness, it's like he never got hurt. He picks up the knife again. He lays his hand palm up on the soft sand floor of the cave. And stabs the knife through the center of his palm, pinning his hand to the ground. It...tingles a bit. Like it's asleep but it doesn't really hurt. He yanks the knife free and again, his flesh itches and then knits clean and whole. Well that's useful. He's thinking about this when his stomach clenches. Oh damn. The healing must need fuel to work. It makes sense it a weird way. Alberich gathers his things and leaves the cave to go catch dinner. He had killed a deer last night, but knew he didn't drain it before he was full. He knows he can't just go slaughtering all the animals in the forest so he decides to try and figure out how much he actually does need to survive.  
Over the next few weeks, Alberich experiments with his new body, trying to learn how it works and what it needs. He learns that he loses consciousness at sunrise, like someone turned him off with a switch. He learned that his body is much slower to heal fire and that the more he uses his new abilities the more frequently he needs to hunt. He knows he still has a lot to learn and it's going to take time. He's not quite ready to be around people yet, but it's time to move on. In the past few weeks he's hunted some deer and after feeding skinned them. He scraped and cured the hides with what he had on hand and makes a tent along with a sleep sack. He can't trust that he will find shelter every night and the extra weight doesn't seem to be a burden at all.   
Alberich has a rough idea of making his way back toward the fringes of the more populated areas and see how things go. He needs to know if he can pass for human, be around them, or if he will spend the rest of his existence alone, deep in the wilds. He finds a road and begins following it. It has to go somewhere and he can plan to be far enough away to set up a camp that won't be disturbed before day break. Alberich travels this way for two days. Walking the road at night, sprinting a few miles into the woods and setting up his tent, and sleeping the day away.   
The third night, Alberich senses movement ahead of him but off the road. Alert and wary, he approaches the spot where he can feel life, people. He knows that unless there is a cart with a broken axle, the only people that lurk on the roads at night are highwaymen and murderers. He debates heading around them into the woods, but....Alberich loves a good fight and it's been so long! He can't help but smile when two men step out of the woods, one in front and one behind. The one behind him is a thin rat-like man, twitchy with beady eyes. He has a slim dagger in his right hand and Alberich can see the blade is coated with something, poison no doubt. The man in front of him is a mountain. Easily over 6 feet tall, with black hair and a beard that are matted and filthy. He's carrying a sword that for anyone else would be a two hander but the giant easily manages it with one.  
The big man looks Alberich up and down. Without preamble, he says, "Your money or your life and your money. What'll it be?"  
Alberich knows that before, on his best day he could probably take the giant, but the rat is still behind him. He isn't sure about both, but, what little money he does have, he's going to need to keep since he isn't sure if he will be able to earn any more. As he is opening his mouth to give some witty sarcastic answer, he feels a line of cold across the back of his neck. The rat man scampers back from him giggling. Alberich claps a hand to the back of his neck and brings it around to see. There is blood on his hand. Alberich is a bit nervous about the poison but his heart doesn't beat, he doesn't breath, so how would it spread through his body and what would it harm? His neck itches and then that sensation fades.   
The giant looks at Alberich then at the rat man. "Why isn't he floppin' around then? You got him right?"  
The rat man looks at Alberich, then at his dagger that has blood on the edge. "Yeah, I got'em. 'E should be floppin' like a fish!"  
Alberich laughs, drops his bag and explodes into motion. He's on the giant before the big man can even react. Alberich's fangs drop and he launches himself. The giant rocks but doesn't fall. He grabs at Alberich's clothes to yank him off. Alberich sinks his fangs deep into the ripe flesh of the giant's throat and with no finesse tears it out. The giant manages one shrill scream before blood chokes him. His hands try to cover the wound and hold in the gushing fountain of blood but Alberich is hungry and the scent of the blood is maddening. He clamps his mouth over the spurting artery and lets the blood pump down his throat. It burns like the finest spirits. It is rich and thick, and he realizes the taste of animal blood is like cheap sour wine that's been heavily watered compared to this fine vintage.   
For Alberich, this has all seemed to happen over the course of an hour, but in truth only a few seconds have passed. He guzzles the giant man's blood and rides his body to the ground as he crumples. The blood sings through Alberich's veins as his heart begins to beat again. The sound is almost deafening after so long without it. His skin tingles and every sense is alive and sharp! Alberich is jolted out of his sensory cocoon when the rat man screams. Alberich whips his head up and whatever the rat man sees is enough to cause him to lose control of his bladder. Alberich wrinkles his nose at the acrid stench and hisses. The rat man shrieks again and bolts.  
Alberich's pupils dilate into pools of utter blackness that drown out his green irises. CHASE. THE. PREY. He releases his hold on the dying human and just as he is about to sprint after the rat man, he jolts to a stop. Am I an animal to give in to every instinct, or am I a man who is still the captain of his own destiny? Everything in him is screaming to give chase, but isn't this part of what he needs to know. He forces himself to be still. He listens to his heart, hammering in his chest, and wills it to slow. He takes a deep breath in, and revels in the strangeness of it after all this time. He is still in control. He still captains this ship. Having gotten his answer, he smiles. No reason to not enjoy the hunt though and he begins the chase.  
The rat man has made no effort at all to hide his passage as he bolted through the woods. Broken branches, uprooted plants, and torn up earth all mark his passage, but even more so than that is the rich, thick, heady scent of his terror. Alberich follows with ease and with barely any effort catches up to the rat man. He cuts around him in his headlong plunge through the forest and positions himself.....just.....so. With a quick sidestep he is now directly in the rat man's path and he collides with Alberich at full speed. Alberich isn't even rocked a tiny bit as the rat man bounces off him and crumples to the ground. He shakes his head, stunned and then looks up in terror. His eyes go wide with terror and he begins making this unholy shrieking. The sound is physically painful to Alberich, who looks at the rat man and yells, "STOP!"  
Much to Alberich's surprise, the rat man stops. His mouth is still working, somewhat like a fish, but no sound is coming out. His breath is coming in heaving sobs and he scrabbles backwards and twists to run again. Alberich grabs his shirt and flips him around to face him. The rat man flails frantically and claws at Alberich's hands and face. One of the swipes manages to poke Alberich in the eye and well, that still hurts like hell. "Goddamnit, hold still you filthy bastard!" Alberich yells at the rat man. And again, the rat man obeys, hanging limp in Alberich's grip.  
Alberich's eyes widen in sudden understanding. "Close your mouth." The rat man closes his mouth. Alberich lets go of his shirt and steps back. "Stand on one foot." The rat man tries to stand on one foot but falls over. He gets up quickly and tries again, and again. "Stop. Sit down." The rat man obeys. "How many people have you murdered?" Alberich asks. "Can't count that high, more'n 10" the rat man answers. "If I let you go, will you do it again?" "Aye, easiest way to get coin." Alberich makes a disgusted snort and pulls out his belt knife. The rat man's eyes widen and he whimpers. Alberich turns the knife and holds it out to the rat man, hilt first. "Take it." The rat man's hand shakes as he reaches out for the knife. Alberich crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at the rat man holding his knife. "Cut your fucking head off," Alberich orders.   
The rat man cries, tears running down his face and the hand with the knife comes up. He's fighting the compulsion. But he's losing. He even tries to hold his hand off with the other but it's a losing battle. His breath is whistling in and out between his clenched teeth, spittle flying into the air. And his hand still rises. Sweat beads his forehead and the cords in his scrawny neck stand out.  
The rat man's will breaking is almost an audible snap. He plunges the knife into the side of his neck and begins sawing frantically. His eyes roll in their sockets in terror and screams are forced out from between his clenched teeth. Blood fountains into the air and splatters on the ground. A waterfall of thick redness pours from the wound and the rat man continues his frantic efforts to decapitate himself. Only when he gets to the spine does he falter. His dying body doesn't have the strength. He jerks the knife a few more times and Alberich can hear it grating on bone. The rat man finally slumps over, still weakly sawing at his gaping neck. Alberich paces over and plucks the knife from his hand. The rat man's eyes roll up in his head and he gives one last shudder. Alberich smiles and licks his knife clean before heading back to the road to get his tent.   
Alberich gets back to the site of the ambush and is about to gather up his pack but thinks he should probably not leave the big man there. There's a town not too far up ahead and he'd rather not have any suspicious deaths trailing after him. He puts his pack down again and wonders how the hell is he going to get this giant bastard off the road. He must weight close to 350lbs. Well, nothing to do but get to work. Worst case, there is that big fucking sword....a chunk at a time would be easier to carry but chopping up a dead guy doesn't strike Alberich as easy work either. Alberich walks around the body and grimaces. Big bastard with his throat ripped out, yeah, that'll be a problem. I'm really going to have to move him. Alberich bends down and gets his hands under the big dead bastard's armpits and prepares to try and heave him up to drag him off the road. He spreads his legs, takes a deep breath in, and hauls upward.  
The big man sails high up over Alberich's head and flies about 30 yards into the woods before hitting a tree. Unbalanced, Alberich falls flat on his ass. He looks around to see where the dead guy went and notices the smear on the tree he hit. Oh. Damn. Alberich laughs out loud at the absurdity of it all. How did he not put two and two together for this? All his senses are heightened, he's inhumanely fast, heals in seconds, doesn't get tired and the pack that always has seemed to weigh a ton is light as a feather. Well I'll be damned, he thinks. He stands up, brushes the dirt off his ass and grabs his pack with one hand. Does a few bicep curls. Oh. Damn.  
He swings the pack on and is about to continue his journey when he remembers the giant's sword. Before he changed, it would have been way too big, unwieldy and heavy for someone of his size...but now...hmmm. He takes a quick look around and finds the two hander in the bushes beside the road. He picks it up and gives a few practice swings. Oh yeah, that's nice! He gets some extra deer hide out of his pack and wraps up the blade. He straps the sword to his pack and continues on his way.   
In another few hours of walking, he can tell he is getting closer to a town. It isn't very big, but this is going to be the Big Test. Can he pass for human well enough to not get torches and pitchforks? Can he control his instincts with all the noise and chaos of that much humanity? Better a small town than the city he is planning on heading to. The night is almost over so Alberich decides to camp for the day and enter at sundown, pretending to want a place to stop for the night and then leaving before dawn. He finds a nice secluded spot to spend the day and as the sun rises, his world goes dark.  
He wakes after night has fallen and quickly breaks camp. He catches and drains two rabbits which don't taste nearly as good now, but there's no reason to go into a town full of people hungry. He gives his clothes a once over and while there are a few blood stains, the cloth is dark enough to hide them. He heads out to the road and before he gets in sight of the town slows his pace to a weary trudge. He gets to the front gate that isn't closed and walks in. There isn't even a guard. So far so good. Even though it's dark out, people are still bustling about. There is a lot to process. Mainly people stink. Good gods people stink! He tries not to gag at the stench and manages to control it as he walks down the main street. He follows the sound of people talking and laughing and finds the local inn that is also a tavern. Perfect. He looks up at the sign, "The Singing Sow". Charming. He rubs his hands over his face to steady his nerves. He hopes his eyes aren't glowing or anything weird. He gives his teeth a quick lick, ok, no fangs. Let's do this! And he boldly steps into the inn.  
The sensory input is overwhelming for a second or two; there is so much noise and light and smells that it's almost a physical hit. He begins moving before he's really oriented so as to not look too odd standing in the doorway and accidentally bumps into a man seated on one of the benches. "Oi! Watch it!" Alberich quickly apologizes and moves to the bar. The innkeeper is a ubiquitous innkeeper. A big man, balding, round belly, hands the size of hams, with his shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows and a ferocious bristling mustache. Alberich wonders to himself if there is some kind of spell involved that makes all innkeepers look like this. He shakes off the thought as the innkeeper moves over to his new guest, "What'll it be lad? If yer thirsty we got cider, beer, and some wine. If yer 'ungry we've got a fine stew with good dark bread. And if yer tired, the beds don't have bugs." Well, that's better than many places Alberich has stayed. He feigns exhaustion, and says "Just a room. I have to get to Kilead as quickly as I can. My father is ailing and...I...I just need to be there before..." The innkeeper's face softens, "Aye lad, I hear you. 2 silvers and it's the room at the top of the stairs on the right. There's fresh cloths to clean up a bit and I can send up some hot water." Alberich hands him the coins and thanks him before heading up to the room. He remembers to trudge and haul himself up the stairs.   
When Alberich gets to the room he shrugs off his pack and sits on the edge of the bed. He can clearly hear everything going on downstairs and even if he wanted to, there would be no way he could sleep here. Never the less, he did it! No one ran screaming, grabbed a stake, or tried to set him on fire. He didn't turn into a ravening beast and eat the serving girl although she did look like a tasty little morsel...huh...well THAT still worked. Not something he had give any thought to before this but, still good to know. Alberich gives a wry chuckle and quickly feigns exhaustion as he hears footsteps on the stairs. There is a soft tap on the door and the morsel is there holding a bucket filled with steaming water. She smiles brightly at him, "Fer yer ablooshuns, sir!" He takes the bucket, thanks her and firmly shuts the door. She seemed friendly enough but there is no reason to tempt fate this early in the game. Alberich revels in the feeling of getting clean again. He would have done much for a bath but this will have to do. After he's done cleaning up, he uses the rest of the water to rinse out his clothes and lays them out to dry. He pulls his last clean set out of his bag, gets dressed, and starts to work on a sheathe for his new sword. He remembers to turn the lamp off so it doesn't seem odd that an exhausted guy is up all night. The dim light is no hindrance as he works on the sheath. After a few hours, the noise downstairs dies down. A few sets of feet tread the steps and head off to the different rooms. From the sounds coming from one, someone isn't spending the night alone. Ah well. Alberich has always been a loner, this is just one more facet to that.   
Once everyone is asleep, he slips out. There are still hours to go until dawn and even with his faster rate of travel, it is still going to be 4 days to get to Kilead. He didn't completely lie to the Innkeeper. That really was his destination, but not due to any sick father. Kilead is one of the largest cities in the kingdom. It sits on the bank of a deep river and is a center of trade and commerce. It also has some unique burial customs. A few miles outside of Kilead is another city. Just as large but unlike Kilead is silent. It's a necropolis. The people in this part of the world believe that when someone dies, they take their grave goods to the afterlife with them. Even the poorest of people will do everything they can to build a modest barrow for a beloved family member while the rich have extravagant crypts that are more like palaces. And then, there are the catacombs. That is what Alberich is really interested in. Miles and miles of underground tunnels that he can make a home in. Spirits high again after his twinge of loneliness, Alberich marches off.  
The rest of the trip is uneventful. No more robbers or close encounters. He did pass a farmer on a cart and experimented a little with the coercion he seems to be able to do. Turns out he can make people forget things too. Alberich is very please with this development as it means he will be much safer if no one ever really remembers him. He's also managed it on animals. Calling out rabbits and deer from the woods. He's learned he can feed without killing if the animal is large enough and he is careful to only nick the vein and not tear out the throat. Again, useful. So far, he's really not seeing any downside to being a vampyre. Yes, he's rather violent at times, but he was before he got turned. But beyond that, healing, heightened senses, faster, stronger, what's not to like? Maybe if he was a religious man, and believed in damnation that could be a downside, but as he isn't, the thought doesn't trouble him. He did discover quite by accident that silver does burn. The silver coinage of the realm isn't actually silver anymore so he hadn't gotten burned when paying for his room at the inn, but his good luck charm is. He hadn't worn it in awhile and then life got, well, undead and he hadn't thought about it. But one night when he was setting up camp he had reached into his pack for some leather strips to secure the tent and the one he grabbed was the leather thing he had the charm tied onto. It was a silver wolf's head raised up and howling. He smiled and went to tie it around his neck like he had hundreds of times before. He secured the knot, and pulled the front of his shirt out so it would drop down underneath to lay on his skin. As soon as the charm touched his skin it was like being hit with a hot coal. There was even smoke!   
He tore off the charm and tossed it onto the ground while slapping his chest to make sure he wasn't actually on fire. God dammit that hurt! He pulled his shirt up to look and sure enough, it looked like he had been burned. Alberich carefully picked up the charm by the leather strap and looked at it. It didn't look any different. He put his hand near it. There wasn't any heat coming off of it. He even gave it a tentative sniff. No chemicals or acid. He held his left hand out in front of him, palm down and carefully lowered the charm until it was juuuuust above his skin. Nope, nothing. So he let it touch him. PAIN! FIRE! BURNING! FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK! Alberich cursed long and loudly into the night. He had very much gotten used to that "pain not really hurting" thing. Well, not many people will go around throwing silver at me, so there's that, he thought. He carefully picked up the charm and wrapped it in a bit of cloth. It was still lucky after all. He quickly set up the rest of camp and slept through the day, like the dead.  
Alberich's arrival in Kilead wasn't eventful at all either. He looked like any other soldier coming back from the war. A bit dirty, a bit rough, and a bit wild around the eyes. The smells, sounds, and sights of the city were frankly too overwhelming that first nigh, so Alberich headed to the necropolis. It was best that he find shelter as soon as possible. There were too many travelers and no wild places for him to set up camp and not risk being disturbed. He still didn't know if he could wake up during the day or if it was more like being unconscious. Despite it being a few miles away, Alberich made it to the necropolis in a very short period of time and spent a few hours scouting around. He could smell traces of the humans who visited here and something else too...almost a familiar smell....not one from his memory but something he should recognize. Like when a word is on the tip of the tongue. After thoroughly scouting a particular entrance to the catacombs, he made his way inside. He walked through a seemingly endless series of tunnels and caverns. He passed ornate ossuaries and modest alcoves. The scent of humans had faded entirely but he could still scent the familiar odor. Whatever it was, it had been down here, so he should find it. However, even underground, he could feel the pull of the sun rising. He had seen a few good locations for a resting place and chose one, an alcove in an alcove. He blocked the entrance with a heavy brass urn, got comfortable and slept.  
As he rose the next night, Alberich had two goals; one was to find the source of the scent and either learn it was no threat or neutralize it and two figure out how to obtain a sustainable food source. Wild game wasn't going to be sustainable this close to the city but the city was full to bursting with people. If he could feed, not kill, and make them forget...well, he'd be set. Alberich set off through the catacombs, a man with a mission. Securing his sanctuary was his first priority. Whatever it was, it seemed just as comfortable down here as he did. The lack of light was no concern to him as he saw just fine in the complete darkness. Finally after a few hours of searching, the trail got fresher. He found another exit to the catacombs that the thing seemed to prefer and based on the strength of the scent, it had been here recently. Alberich decided to lay an ambush and catch whatever it was. He settled himself into a concealed nook and waited.   
After a few hours, Alberich, began to think that maybe the creature wasn't coming back this way. He wasn't sore or cramped from not moving for so long but he was starting to get hungry. He had learned that it was best to not let the hunger get too bad or it did effect his ability to judge situations for danger of exposure. He figured those stories of vampyres just being ravening beasts were because they went too long or maybe there were more than one kind. Alberich was by no means a master of occult studies and honestly hadn't really believed most of his grandmother's stories. Just then, Alberich heard a noise. Men's voices talking in rough, hushed tones. It sounded like they were arguing but even with his enhanced hearing he couldn't quite make it out. He quietly slipped from his spot of concealment and crept closer.  
When Alberich got close enough, he could see three men huddled together near one of the more lavish mausoleums. They had tools with them and were arguing whether this was the place where a certain person had recently been laid to rest with a veritable mountain of treasure or if this place was one they had visited before and would therefore be a waste of time to break in. Alberich was disgusted! Tomb robbers! That was the lowest of the low. While not really believing anything for himself, he respected the beliefs of others and to all the people buried here, when your spirit left your body, it needed those things you were buried with to navigate the afterlife. The body was only interred so the spirit could be released, find their property and move on. For these people to take that was to destroy someone's life work to provide for themselves or a loved one for eternity. Alberich growled low in his throat and began to stalk the grave robbers.  
Alberich drew his new sword and crept closer and closer to the thieves. He managed to get close before they noticed him and then he pounced. The sword was like air in his hands and he handled it effortlessly. The first robber was beheaded in the first few swings. The second had a prybar and put up more of a fight. In fact, he distracted Alberich long enough for the third thief to swing his pickax and bury it in his back. Alberich looked down, a bit shocked to see the bloody tip of the pickax protruding from his chest. Numbness and paralysis spread throughout your body and the sword fell from your nerveless fingers. The pickax had pierced Alberich's heart. He couldn't even cry out. He was done for and knew it. Alberich slowly toppled to the ground unable to even break his fall. The last thief approached, breathing hard and with a shovel held tightly in his fists. The pickax through Alberich's heart held him in a state of paralysis and he could only watch helplessly as the thief raised the shovel to drive it through his neck and cut off his head. Alberich frantically tried to move, do something, wiggle a toe, but he couldn't. "NO!" he screamed in his mind. "NO! HELP!" He knew that was pointless but couldn't help himself. The thief reared back to add extra force to the chop.  
WHAM!  
Out of nowhere a gray blur hits the thief from the side, hurtling him off his feed and the shovel falls to the ground, striking mere inches from Alberich's face. Whatever is happening is beyond his range of vision so all he can do is lie there helplessly. There are ferocious sounds of combat. The theif is yelling something about a monster and the other thing, THE THING HE'D BEEN SMELLING, is snarling and spitting at the thief. There is a final high pitched cry and then all goes quiet. Alberich strains his ears to pick up anything, but he can't tell what is going on. Then, he hears footsteps approaching.   
"maaasssstttterrr?", a sibilant voice whispers near Alberich's head. He tries to move but to no avail.   
"massssterrrr, it will huuuuurt I helllp," the voice says again. Just then, Alberich feels a tug inside his chest and pain explodes. It is made worse by the fact he can't even scream. There is another tug and then he feels pressure on his back before the pickaxe is ripped out.   
Alberich screams in agony as soon as he can move again. There is a gaping hole in his chest that pierces the whole way though. His world is nothing but pain as his body cannibalizes all available resources to try to repair the damage. Alberich's stomach cramps painfully with hunger. The gray figure drags over the third robber. Alberich can smell the life inside of him, and he NEEDS it. He tries to crawl to him but is just too weak to move. His body on fire from burning up all his resources to desperately heal. Alberich can feel his strength running out, and reaches out beseechingly for help.  
The gray thing hisses, "Yesssss Masssster," and with unbelievably long claws, rips out the robber's throat clear back to the spine. The head flops off to the side and the gray thing aims the spurting wound at Alberich as it drapes the body over him. The rich, hot blood pours over Alberich's wound and spurts into his mouth. His heart reforms in his chest and begins to beat before the flesh knits over it. Ribs, tissue, muscle, fat and then skin finally seal over the wound and Alberich grabs the body, latching on to one of the pulsating neck arteries. His cheeks hollow as he drains the thief completely. Dizzy and disoriented, Alberich drops the dead man and looks around. Crouched down on all fours is a gray hairless humonoid of some sort. Long limbs, sharp claws, sharp teeth, and large pointed ears. It slowly creeps forward toward Alberich making tiny mewling noises and keeping its glowing eyes averted. He doesn't really know what it is, but it helped him, and there is this feeling inside him, he can feel the creature's longing. Alberich feels something too, something feral but true. This creature is his. It belongs to him, like a wolf in a pack, they belong together. He can feel how scared it is that he will reject it and it will be alone again. He can also feel its loyalty and strange adoration, like it views him as a god. It tentatively reaches one clawed hand out toward Alberich's boot. He decides.   
Alberich slowly takes a knee and pets the clawed hand. "Mine," he says and feels the bond snap fulling into being.   
"Massster!" it hisses and crawls forward to rub on his legs. In a way, it's like a dog so he does the only thing he can think of, he pets it and calls it a good boy. The thing trills and Alberich can feel its happiness in the bondspace in his head. Now that he knows the bondspace is there, he can tell that there will be other things he can bond with. But for now, this is enough. Alberich rises to his feet and walks over to pick up his bloody sword, he can feel the creature at his back, watching, guarding, and his world is a bit fuller for it.  
The End.


End file.
